//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: Dissonance // Story: A World Without Jazz // by TheCacophonousMuse //------------------------------// Chapter 3: Dissonance Cloud’s house was large and imposing, clearly indicating the success of his startup. Vinyl knew that it was mostly superficial, and that some of the upstairs rooms were unfurnished, but she still received the house’s message loud and clear: Cloud had money. The party was really meant as much to display Cloud’s wealth as to celebrate Octavia’s signing with Raincloud. Vinyl flashed her invitation at the porter, who quickly swung open the heavy doors for her. She paused, letting the sound and light of the party filter through her signature shades for a moment before stepping inside. As the porter began to heave the oak doors closed in her wake, Vinyl began making a mental map of the social groups in the party. On her right, all toting flutes of champagne were several college students; Vinyl quickly surmised that they must be Octavia’s friends. To the left, near the food, several musicians whom she had met on occasion were milling around, chatting in quiet voices. Across the room from her, Cloud, with his foreleg wrapped around a pale green earth pony whom Vinyl assumed must be his current mare of the week, was talking with Octavia and a few others. They seemed to be either very rich sponsors or stockholders of raincloud, or else very important for other reasons. Vinyl, naturally, joined this group. She wasn’t particularly important, nor, of course, particularly rich, but she knew she could stand on the fringes and listen in on the others’ conversations. Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, Vinyl squeezed through a couple of ponies heading over to the buffet. To her surprise, as she neared the group, Cloud beckoned her over. “Hey Scratch,” Cloud greeted her as she drew up beside him. “Octavia was just telling me about the gig.” “Um… what?” “Oh, you know. Her Canterlot University performance graduation requirement. Apparently she wants to record it live for the first release. You know, to get her name out there.” Cloud flicked his mane back. “Ah.” Vinyl couldn’t think of much else to say. She figured it would just be one of those types of conversations where all she had to do was smile and make nondescript noises of agreement every so often; Cloud had always been rather talkative. After a while she would tune him out, and just nod affirmatively whenever there was a break in the buzzing. She took another sip of her drink. “…it really is an honor Vinyl.” “Wait, sorry. What were you saying?” Vinyl was jolted out of her thoughts. “Accompanying Octavia in her exposition; after all, it will be her first release with Raincloud, so naturally she would want the best.” The corner of the Pegasus’ mouth twisted up as he acknowledged her. Octavia had told Cloud about that? And Vinyl had only told the cellist ‘maybe.’ The DJ groaned inwardly. “Well, I’m… uh… a bit out of practice, really.” “I still think that you’re the mare for the job, Ms. Scratch,” a voice called from over her shoulder. Octavia drew up beside her, taking a sip of champagne. “After all, her aptitude in those recordings I found was really beyond compare. Playing with you also saves me from having to play with somepony like… him,” she said, nodding across the room toward an earth pony who was stuffing a piece of cake in his mouth, smearing it all over his face. “That’s Frederick Horshopin. No manners, no skill, and, hopefully, nothing to do with me. I’ve been assigned to projects with him before…” the cellist shuddered, but steadied herself with another sip of her drink. She turned, addressing Cloud. “Vinyl is certainly the best choice available. And, of course, the association with her father won’t hurt.” Cloud chuckled dryly; Vinyl turned away. With that comment, Vinyl had realized that this was, of course, the real reason that Octavia had chosen her; it wasn’t just a weak, drunken moment. She wanted Vinyl’s name, and her family’s, to be associated with the album. Maybe she’d been wrong about Octavia; maybe she was just another sell-out. One with considerable skill, certainly, but a sell-out all the same. Vinyl took off her shades, shaking her head. She had no doubt that she would be forced to perform with the cellist, to play the music that Octavia was composing for a crowd that didn’t understand it, that couldn’t feel the its power. The Unicorn felt a faint stirring of letdown. Somehow, for some reason, she had believed in Octavia. There was just something about the cellist… something that had affected her on some basic level. But it had all been a lie; the cellist was no different from all of the other students the University was turning out. Vinyl took another drink from a passing waiter, but it tasted stale, with none of the hopeful buzz she had felt before. She looked back, but Cloud was nowhere to be seen. Octavia wasn’t there either; Vinyl paused for a second. Octavia would be everywhere at once at her party, pulling social strings and trying to get a leg up. Vinyl was sure that she would at least be getting another glass of champagne, but only a few of the students from before were milling around the waiters. “Hello. Are you from the university?” A young stallion had pulled up beside her. He had a slighter build, and his face wasn’t perfectly shaven. A lopsided smile settled pleasantly across his features. “I don’t recall seeing you before.” He spoke with a slight Trottingham accent. “No, I’m not a student anymore.” “Oh. Are you a graduate? You look familiar.” “Um, no. I attended but never actually finished.” “Oh.” He let the subject drop. “But I take it you’re studying there?” Vinyl tipped her head to the side. “Yeah, music, funnily enough. Seems Octavia just about brought the entire Canterlot U. music department down to the party. She is a bit full of herself sometimes, isn’t she?” Vinyl chuckled. “Truest thing I’ve ever heard. What music do you do specifically?” “I do electronic music. There’s this kind of new genre called Dubstep, actually, that I’m particularly interested in.” Vinyl stifled her laughter. The stallion looked at her quizzically. “What’s so funny about that?” he asked her. “Or are you familiar with the genre?” “You could say that.” Vinyl offered him a coy smile. “Well, if you haven’t had good experiences, there’s… discrepancies in the genre, just as in any other type of music. You should try listening to other artists. For instance, there’s this one artist, DJ-PON3… she’s absolutely amazing.” Vinyl realized with a jolt that he wasn’t able to recognize her without her shades on. Her hoof instinctively felt the pocket where they were resting. “Well,” she decided suddenly to play along. “I’ll have to check her out sometime.” He was clearly trying to flirt with her, and he was certainly the type of stallion who others might consider handsome. For some reason, she had never really found the same attraction that other mares had with most stallions, but maybe she was just missing something. Maybe it was time to let it go. “You should; she’s really amazing.” Vinyl noticed that they were climbing the stairs together. What was she getting into? Did she want this? Was that even the right question? Should she want this? “As are you.” His arm had snaked around her shoulders. There was a door; Vinyl didn’t remember walking over to it, but it was suddenly right in front of her. She wished she hadn’t drunk so much at the party. The door swung open at her lightest touch. She stumbled a bit over the threshold, but the stallion’s hoof was there to steady her. She didn’t even know his name! What was she doing? Was this how she was supposed to be feeling? Vinyl felt like crying, but there was some deep-seated need driving her forward. Strangely, she noted it had nothing ot do with the stallion at her side. His arm pulled her toward the bed in the darkness. She could feel his body pressing against hers, his hooves running over her dress. She swallowed. There was a faint sound; Vinyl could feel the back of her dress come open as he worked at the clasps. He worked down her back, getting lower, lower, lower. Light. Sound. A light flipped on. Vinyl scrabbled at the top of her dress, making sure the front was sitting at its normal height. Somepony was yelling. Next to her, on the bed, a couple was still kissing passionately. She ducked out of the room. What was she even doing here? A party. Some sort of party. She reached the doorframe. Yes. The cellist was signing. Raincloud. She looked back at the room. The cellist was still preoccupied, pressing her face into Cloud’s. Vinyl turned away, slamming the door. She felt something hot and wet on her face. Was she crying? She didn’t even know. She didn’t know anything anymore. There was a rush of green as a mare pushed past Octavia; Cloud’s marefriend from before. She heard another voice add to the yelling. Vinyl ducked into the bathroom; she was choking over her sobs. Was she really crying that much? Had she even started crying? She fumbled over the clasps of her dress with her hooves; she was certainly too inebriated to use magic. She slumped against the wall. She could feel her consciousness fleeing her and returning in dull throbs. What was happening to her? Had she just screwed up her life? She couldn’t even remember. She couldn’t remember whether or not she had just screwed up her fucking life. She kicked the sink; something fell off and shattered. The image of Cloud and Octavia kissing replayed itself before her eyes, again and again and again. Her body pressed into his, their tongues locked together, Cloud’s hooves running over the earth pony’s back. Why did she care? She knew Cloud wasn’t exactly faithful, and she had never really objected to his tendency to sleep with every mare in the room before. Why now? What was happening to her? Vinyl looked in the mirror. Her face was streaked with tears, her mane was disheveled, and her nose was bleeding. She vaguely remembered hitting it on the bedframe in the panic. She took a towel and smeared it across her face, dropping it on the floor. Cloud could clean that up. A hiccup escaped her. She found herself leaving the bathroom in a rush. Somehow she was through the party. Out the doors. In the cool night. Vinyl ran through the streets, somewhere towards her home. Cars honked, swerved. She heard angry voices, but she kept running, running, running away from it all. Her house. A staircase. Her bed. She collapsed with an effort into the four-poster, not even bothering to take her dress off. Vinyl hugged a pillow to her face. And cried. She had never felt so acutely aware of just how alone she was. - - - Vinyl gulped, steeling herself. Almost four days had passed since she had run out of the party; Cloud hadn’t tried to contact her since. She wondered how much he knew that she’d seen. Octavia, on the other hand, had contacted her almost immediately. Only the day after the party, she had awoken at midday, rather hungover, with a crash. When she had gone outside to investigate, all she found was a grey pegasus sitting on top of something rather flat and metal. After a second, Vinyl ascertained that it was her mailbox. The mailmare had apparently accidentally landed on her mailbox while trying to put a letter in it. Privately, Vinyl wondered whether the Pegasus’ shoddy flying had had anything to do with her strange eyes, which looked out in either direction, but she didn’t voice the thought aloud. The mailmare had apologized, handed her the letter, and, thankfully, left without destroying anything else. The letter had contained a message from Octavia; Vinyl was to come to a practice in the Hoofstrong Hall of Music at Canterlot University, so that Octavia could provide her with sheet music and she could begin to learn it. That was four days ago. Now, Vinyl hitched her saddlebags and opened the door, trying to ready herself to see the cellist for the first time since seeing her and Cloud on the bed... Vinyl shut out the memory; she couldn’t lose focus. She needed to attend the practice, and show Octavia that she just didn’t care. That she was just doing the exposition because she had already agreed. Get in, play music, get out. It was a short walk to Hoofstrong Hall, and one Vinyl had made many times before she had dropped out. She quickly ducked through the wrought iron gates that would lead her to the main quad, turning left down a winding cobblestone path that led to the music department. It was early morning, and still rather chilly; Vinyl shivered. It felt like it was going to rain. She opened the doors ahead of her with her magic, closing them soundlessly behind her. Vinyl opened the door to the practice studio. The cellist was already in the studio, her back to the door. She was backlit, facing the windows, and her mane fell softly around her shoulders, not styled at all. The earth pony had her cello resting gently on her shoulder, and was playing a beautiful melody that Vinyl recognized; it was the second movement in Winter from Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons. The unicorn let the cellist play for a few minutes, soaking in the idyllic atmosphere of the room. “Hey,” Vinyl called out as Octavia brought the piece to a close. The cellist set her instrument down in its case, slowly turning to face the DJ. “Well, shall we get started?” her voice was cold; despite her previous assumptions, Vinyl questioned again whether Octavia had noticed her during the party. “All right.” Vinyl drew up the bench to the piano; it was a grand, open, and polished to perfection. She had no doubt that it was tuned perfectly as well, but she still couldn’t help comparing it to the piano sitting in her basement. Maybe it was a nicer piano in general, but she could already tell it had not character. It was just a generic piano, not something special. Octavia was rifling through her saddlebags. After a moment, she straightened up, producing some hastily handwritten sheets. “Here you are,” she said curtly, handing them to Vinyl. Vinyl looked over them. The piece was in E minor, a sonata; it modulated down to C major in the fantasia. “Can I see the cello part?” Vinyl asked. After a moment, Octavia managed to produce it. It did seem a nice complement: the cello provided a soft melody, a little bit melancholy in the beginning; it played heavily on the relationship between the minor and major seventh. She reached up to the piano and ran up a couple octaves in an E minor blues scale. The piano’s tone was flat and flavorless, but it still produced music. And she still remembered the movements of her hooves. She put the sheet of music on the piano. Octavia settled back in her chair. “I’ll let you give that a few run-throughs.” Vinyl pressed down the keys, entering into the first measure. It did have a certain, jazzy feel to it; she was briefly reminded of Vince Guaraldi. A jazz sonata. She chuckled. It was an eclectic mix. She felt the piece settle down; the cello would take up the melody there. She played through the different notes. The piece was rather flat for such a jazzy rhythm. Vinyl could tell Octavia hadn’t written any jazz piano before; there was no room for any accentuation or personal flair. Well, she could work with it. Octavia cleared her throat. “You know, Cloud’s a really good kisser. I can see why you like him.” Vinyl’s hoof slipped, but she continued playing; she had decided that Octavia’s comment didn’t warrant a response. The dissonance settled in over the room. “I mean,” the cellist continued. “It would be an absolute travesty if he ever went out with somepony as... uncultured as you. But I get the attraction.” Vinyl didn’t turn around, but she could imagine the smug expression on the earth pony’s face. She gritted her teeth at Octavia’s thinly disguised insults. She lifted her hooves from the keys. “Why do you think I like Cloud?” Her voice seemed strangely loud in the soundproof studio. “Oh, it’s obvious. The way you are around him. You just can’t stop flirting, can you.” The condescension in Octavia’s voice was growing every second. “What are you talking about?” “Don’t try to pretend Vinyl. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” A slight edge was affecting the cellist’s voice as well now. “I...” Vinyl stammered to a stop. What was she trying to say, anyway. What was she trying to prove to the prissy earth pony, anyway? “Can we just play the music?” She glanced back at the other mare. “He likes you.” Octavia’s voice was quiet; she had lost the condescension, but she the edge in her voice was even more pronounced. Vinyl realized that the musician was on the verge of tears. “He... he said... he said your name.” The cellist hung her head, ashamed. “What?” “You know.” The cellist shifted uncomfortably. “When we, uh... when he...” “Oh.” The two shared an awkward silence. After a while, Vinyl broke the quiet. “I don’t actually have any feelings for him, if that, um... makes any difference.” “You don’t understand.” The cellist was facing away from the DJ, staring out the window. It had started to drizzle gently, but the sound didn’t penetrate the inside of the studio. “Cloud doesn’t like me. You don’t like me. Nopony likes me. Some stallions try to ask me out, but only because I’m rich, or because I’m going to be famous.” She sniffed. “No one understands me. I thought you’d at least understand that.” Vinyl shifted on the piano stool. Her hindquarters were falling asleep. “Cloud didn’t want anything really. Just quick sex and go.” “Well, yeah,” Vinyl pointed out. “That seems like Cloud.” The cellist’s glare told her that her commentary was unwanted. “Oh, so you can say that; you can have a stallion any time you fucking want.” “Hang on, hang on,” the DJ shook her head. “What?” “Vinyl... you’re... um, quite frankly... hot. Fun. Exciting. You’re everything that stallions want. I’m... just this.” Octavia motioned down her body. “Wait, I don’t think—” “—no, you don’t.” Octavia was looking at her now. “Cloud, Ethan...” “Who?” “You didn’t even know his fucking name?” Vinyl realized with a jolt that Octavia was talking about the British pony from the party. “Even the stallions on the floor below us, they always talk about you. You’re the DJ for the best club in Canterlot. You’re freaking famous.” “But—” Vinyl started, and then stopped. “How do you... do it?” Octavia’s eyes caught her own, and then dropped away. There was a faint red tinge to the cellist’s cheeks. “I... I don’t know.” That was a lie though; Vinyl did know. “Well, I guess... you know how everything is better when you can’t have it?” Octavia nodded. It hurt Vinyl to look at her; she was so lonely, so vulnerable. Vinyl remembered the feeling. She knew exactly what it felt like. “Well, I guess...” Vinyl paused. “I guess I don’t like stallions.” Octavia’s jaw dropped. “Wait...” “Well, I have to be off now.” Vinyl grabbed the music off of the piano. “I’ll see you around.” She stepped out of the studio, leaving Octavia open mouthed in her wake. Something had just broken free inside of her. She bounded out the doors, into the bright streets of Canterlot. Vinyl walked towards her house, humming Octavia’s song under her breath. She even had time for some lunch.